


Taking What's Offered

by syredronning



Series: Taking the Crumbs [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 22:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21483541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syredronning/pseuds/syredronning
Summary: Not Worf's dream, but good enough for the moment.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Worf
Series: Taking the Crumbs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1548520
Kudos: 13





	Taking What's Offered

**Author's Note:**

> For Darksusie in Cait's Ship Tales challenge. Many thanks to AdmiralMemo for his beta! All remaining errors are mine :)
> 
> Originally posted 2007.

Worf didn't like most human festivities, and he particularly disliked Halloween, because it forced him to wear a silly costume (which he always hated, but especially after Q and his merry men posse), and it also forced him to feign humor when he didn't see any. The party in Quark's was annoyingly loud and full with people in overly good mood. It was enough to make a Klingon howl. He ordered a drink, threw an extra tip into the box labeled "Tricky Treats" like everyone else (although he had no idea what it was intended for), and turned on his bar seat to oversee the crowd.

When he noticed Bashir walking in his direction, he growled inwardly. Just as he disliked to fake interest in human parties, he disliked to pretend any interest in the doctor tonight. Shortly after Worf's arrival on DS9, Bashir had unashamedly offered himself for a fuck once in a while. In the beginning, it had looked like a good arrangement. But it hadn't taken Worf long to find out for whom he actually stood. How anyone could be interested into a Cardassian was beyond Worf. And a Starfleet member even, what a dishonor to the fleet! He had canceled their dates after this realization, but it seemed Bashir had the intention to meet him anyway.

"Hello, Worf," Bashir said with a cheery smile.

"Hello, doctor," Worf growled and looked the other direction.

"I thought we could maybe talk a little," Bashir said and forced himself into Worf's view. The bright orange color of his outfit hurt the Klingon's eye. Obviously, the doctor tried to represent a pumpkin - and failed miserably, in Worf's opinion.

"There's nothing to talk about." Worf rotated around; even the view of Quark's back was better than that of the human.

"Please, Worf. I want to explain -" Bashir put his hand on Worf's back, right at the beginning of the neck ridges. It was a rather sensitive spot and surely not chosen by chance.

Worf frowned deeply.

"Okay, if you don't want an explanation…" Bashir shrugged and let his hand slip lower. "But I can see you're not in a good mood. Maybe I can do something to improve it."

"You think so?"

"Yes." Bashir lowered his head and added in a whisper, "You could be rough. Just the way you like it."

"And have you groan that traitor's name in my ear," Worf retorted not really quietly.

"You could gag me," Bashir whispered. "And tie me up and slap me until I really face who's fucking me. Until it's your name I'm forced to say, again and again." His hand slipped even lower, down to the next arousing spot at Worf's back.

Worf turned his head and briefly scanned the crowd. Then he half-turned back to Bashir. "Your cabin. In half an hour."

Bashir nodded with a smile. "I'll be there." He moved on, a light swing in his step.

Worf growled a little, as annoyed as before the conversation. Bashir wanted it? Well, he would have to learn it the hard way what a Klingon's anger looked like…


End file.
